


A Carnal Knowledge

by Red Charade (traciller)



Series: Vampire Sherlock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, NSFW, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vamplock, vampire!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traciller/pseuds/Red%20Charade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has an addiction of his own that only Sherlock can fulfill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Carnal Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Warning: This is a true PWP, there is ZERO plot here. If you are expecting even a tiny bit, you will be disappointed.

John shivered as he felt Sherlock’s body above his own, against his own as he was positioned on his hands and knees on his flatmate’s bed. Perhaps flatmate wasn’t the word to call him, anymore. But, it was familiar and he wasn’t sure where they stood at the moment. So flatmate would have to do.  
  
He’d quickly become addicted to the sensual thrill that Sherlock had shown him the day he’d agreed to let the detective, the vampire, sink his fangs into his thigh. It was just a side-effect, but it was far more addicting than any mere adrenaline rush he’d had before. And it ended in a fantastic orgasm each time, so that was even more of an incentive.  
  
John felt it as Sherlock slid his hips against his arse, rubbed against him in an almost subtle way, a soft hitching of breath against the doctor’s ear that caused him to close his eyes and give a soft moan as he rubbed back against the vampire’s hips, rubbing himself against the man’s cock, hoping to encourage more than just this.  
  
Sherlock gave a soft sound, a bit of a soft growl more than anything else and he could feel as it sent shivers along John’s spine. He could smell the man’s pheromones, just like he could smell the delicious blood pumping through his body. He pressed his nose lightly against John’s neck, close to the point of pulse, inhaling subtly the scent of blood and lust mixed as one.  
  
He gave a firm thrust of his hips, causing John to cry out a bit beneath him, to push back against his cock which so far he still refused to penetrate his friend --  his lover, now? -- with. For now, the unexpected movement was little better than a firm sort of primal humping. He was denying his body the two things it knew it was being offered and wanted desperately. He knew this, but God the feeling...no wonder some people thought sex was divine in a most literal sense. Compared with his the chemicals going off in his own brain, and the scents that were triggering them smelling so delightful on their very own, he was almost drunk.  
  
“Sherlock, please...” John’s voice was almost soft, but definitely close to begging.  
  
“Please what?” Sherlock murmured, his voice soft and rich like velvet. He moved his head just a fraction of an inch, almost as if to nuzzle John, before softly kissing his way down toward John’s shoulder, an easier place to hide a mark from the world, letting John feel the elongated teeth beneath his lips. To know that they were there, to remind him what they capable of and what they would be doing to him soon enough.  
  
The shiver John gave was wonderful and the accompanying moan and pressing backward of his whole body made Sherlock’s cock harden even further and he shifted his hips a bit again so that he could reach a hand between them and guide himself into position, pressing forward just a bit. Only enough to give warning, before he began to press forward.  
  
They’d spent nearly an hour on foreplay, and half an hour of it was spent on carefully preparing John. He was sure the doctor could forgive his impatience. From the reaction, it was shared impatience anyway. The loud moan John had given was like music to Sherlock, and the backward motion of the man’s hips was enough to encourage Sherlock the rest of the way inside.  
  
“Oh God, Sherlock...” John moaned, nearly whimpered, unable to stop his hips from rocking against the detective’s.  
  
Sherlock had to close his eyes for a moment, grip John’s hips to forcibly still them. “John...” he whispered against the blond’s shoulder, kissing him there and giving a soft lick. He wanted to taste so badly.  
  
There was a soft shiver beneath him. John loved the way Sherlock said his name like that, it sounded so sinful and so needy at the same time. As if the vampire weren’t entirely certain of the role he was playing, dominant or submissive. Begging or asserting. John couldn’t deny to himself that he liked knowing he had that power over his flatmate, despite being the one on his knees, being the one penetrated. And despite Sherlock being what he was. John still wielded his own power in this situation.  
  
“Come on, Sherlock....fuck me...” he murmured, letting the desire and need for Sherlock fill his voice despite the soft tone.  
  
Sherlock released his grip on John’s hips and caressed one hand up along his friend’s abs, still toned because the muscle had never had a true chance to soften after Afghanistan due to Sherlock’s lifestyle of running after criminals quite literally and leaping rooftops. The other slid down the outer portion of John’s thigh, slowly and gently, turning inward halfway down and carefully as his hips began to move.  
  
At first they were soft and gentle, even short, thrusts. To be sure that he wouldn’t hurt the mortal beneath him. But, that only lasted so long before it became unbearable and obviously unnecessary as John seemed to be just as impatient as he was.  
  
So the thrusts came a bit more forcefully at that point, longer. Sherlock’s body pressed against John’s again so that with each thrust, with each movement, their bodies caressed one another in a slow and deliberate undulation that was at once extremely lewd and extremely intimate.  
  
The hand on John’s abdomen moved up further toward his chest, using it’s leverage there to hold John closer to Sherlock’s body so that they were as close as they could possibly be. John felt his neck and face flush, both from what he was doing with his flatmate -- it was so wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this -- and from the sheer intimacy of it. He really didn’t think he’d ever felt this...close, this connected with another human being before.  
  
This revelation was both surprising and important to John because he was certainly the furthest thing from a virgin that Sherlock could have possibly found.  
  
At that point Sherlock shifted his hips a bit, changing his angle just the slightest bit, and John nearly saw stars, practically screaming out Sherlock’s name, gripping the pillow he’d had close by. At first he wasn’t sure what had happened, nor was he sure he even cared just so long as Sherlock kept doing whatever it was he’d done!  
  
“Right there, is it?” came the velvet tone again, causing John to whimper and nod his head quickly.  
  
“Yes...yes, oh God, yes...” John moaned in answer, loud and desperate, wanting more and not knowing or caring what he was answering to.  
  
“Do you want it again?” the lips against his shoulder stretched a bit into a self-satisfied smirk.  
  
“Please, Sherlock. Yes! Just...please...” John was desperate to have that sensation again, that explosion of feeling and pleasure that had almost been too much. He feared it and needed the intensity at the same time.  
  
Sherlock gave him what he asked for, and at the same time sank his fangs into the tender flesh of John’s shoulder, sucking at the blood that welled up to greet his tongue, some of it dripping slowly down John’s arm, small rivulets slipping forward down his chest, as well.  
  
John screamed out Sherlock’s name as the man above him thrust into him at that same angle three more times, hard and fast and deliberate. That was all it took, those last three thrusts with that intense...heat was the only word he could assign it...that the bite caused, to make John reach a sudden orgasm.  
  
Sherlock moaned at the way that felt, to have John cum while he was inside of him, to feel the way the mortal tightened around his hardened member, to feel the change in the doctor’s body, to smell and  taste the intensity of the pheromones and lust in the blood he drank from his willing victim.  
  
John was very aware of the continued thrusting after his orgasm, and his body was so sensitive now that he welcomed it and wasn’t entirely sure he might not get hard again just from that. Which surprised him, all things considered. He wasn’t 20, anymore, after all.  
  
But, oh...the sensation that bite was still sending coursing through him. He began to move back against Sherlock again, giving soft panting sounds as his body trembled, giving quiet, pleasured sobs of the vampire’s name to encourage him closer to the edge.  
  
It didn’t take long and it was obvious when Sherlock was staring over the ledge of that edge, his thrusts lost their rhythm and became harder, faster for a few seconds. He removed his fangs from John’s shoulder and lapped at the blood instead, sucking and licking, afraid to leave his fangs in as he came inside of the man beneath him.  
  
The feeling was warm and while strange not altogether unpleasant to John. But, soon, Sherlock was finished and sliding out of him, changing their position so that they could both lie down, their bodies still pressed together, the detective still holding him close.  
  
The wound still bled, but John knew that his flatmate would take care of it as he had the others. He had no worry about that.  
  
And, of course, Sherlock did. While John craved this now, and Sherlock knew that, he also knew that John had incredible willpower when he wanted to use it and this would not continue if he treated him as if his well being didn’t matter. But, more than that Sherlock knew that John’s well being did matter. Even if he wasn’t expected to take care of that wound he would still do it because John would be unable to right now.  
  
He remembered wondering, briefly, earlier if John were his lover now. But, no, that wasn’t so. He and John were not lovers, not yet. And, maybe not ever. That could easily be wishful thinking on his part, that there was any chance at all that they were more than just friends with benefits, as the mortals seemed to call it these days.  
  
Still, he couldn’t help but hope...just a bit...that maybe one day....


End file.
